


and then i'll be your ain true love

by betony



Category: Tam Lin (Traditional Ballad)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betony/pseuds/betony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Janet wins Tam Lin from the fae--and gets more than she expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and then i'll be your ain true love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



_"Them that has gotten young Tam Lin has gotten a stately groom,”_ the Queen of the Fae had hissed as she rode by, and now, in the morning light, Janet could see it as the cruel jest it really was. The shoulders draped in the green mantle were as broad as ever, the grey eyes as bright; but there were some things that were not the same, and those were unmistakably _female._

“Saints preserve me,” she moaned, “what now?” 

It had to be some new test, one Tam Lin had forgotten to mention. She went to him, hands clutching him once more—he made a noise of confused protest but she paid no heed. Lord, she had held him when he was made up all of claws, of scales, of flame; what discomfort now that he was a much more pleasant armful? 

But it seemed that was not his complaint. Instead he pushed her away, gently but firmly, and said, “Janet, lass, what ails you?” 

He was many things, her earthly knight, but not observant, it seemed. Wordlessly Janet lowered her gaze to his body, and his own followed. The sight did not seem to trouble him; more proof, Janet thought desperately, that it had only been another fae-cast trick to be easily sundered. His brows furrowed and those lovely grey eyes narrowed and he said: “Ah.” 

_Ah_. That was all. Janet ground her teeth together and tried not to cry out with frustration. “What’s to be done then?” she blurted out. “Another dip in the river? Need we go to the kirk to have you blessed? Must I have you jump through fire?” 

”I don’t know that there’s anything to be done,” said Tam Lin reflectively. “Except that I am bone-weary and chilled and would do anything to have a warm meal that’s not made of enchantments and acorn leaves.” 

A warm meal, indeed! Things were growing worse and worse by the moment. She hadn’t expected any words of everlasting love, not from a knight so recently won from the fae, but she didn’t think a word or two of thanks would cost him so dear. “And how am I to bring you before my da, then?” she retorted, not a little waspishly. “What sort of father for my bairn would you make as you are now?” 

Tam Lin had opened his mouth to say something, but at that he broke off. He closed his mouth and lowered his eyes; he took his time about it, too, so much that nearly fifteen heartbeats had passed before he spoke again. 

”It seems we’re both in want of something we can’t have at the moment,” he said, his voice as controlled as ever it was on Carterhaugh when he’d told her the price of a double rose. “As my wish might be more easily granted, Lady, I suggest it might come first.” 

There was nothing she could reply to that, but plenty to be said. He didn't care at all, did he, of the disgrace that would follow when the child came, with no father to stand for it? Of how her father would doubtless exile her to a convent, to smother her shame with the semblance of piety, or, better still, to hide all traces of her existence? Of the desperation that had led her to risk the damnation of her soul and the death of her body--but what was that to a warm meal not made of acorns? She had her pride, though, and it would not let her beg. She settled for studying the mud-stained mantle he wore critically. 

”Yes,” she said, and sniffed. “Well. At the least, we must find something for you to wear that hasn’t half the forest clinging to it.” 

Tam Lin said nothing. She took his silence for agreement and led the way, not bothering to look back behind her, not daring to unpick the feelings coiled up in her breast. 

* * *

In her father’s hall, Janet held court over four and twenty maidens. Some were tall and some short, some comely and others ill-formed, but all, as served her father’s idea of proper companionship for ladies of rank, were all rather silly. Janet loved them all, rather as she might love a flock of chickens given into her care. 

So it was with some relief that she realized she could easily introduce a twenty-fifth into their ranks without anyone taking much notice. In fact she did not even have to produce a name for the new arrival. Within days, everyone seemed to think that Linn (for no matter how much they were told _Tam Lin_ , everyone stubbornly persisted in hearing _the Lady Linn_ instead—some lingering craft of the Queen’s spell, perhaps) had been with them from the start. And lucky, too, that no one seemed to question how the Lady Linn spent her days, for as comely as her face and form were, her arms were as strong and as used to the bow and spear as they had ever been. Tam Lin went out alone into the forest most mornings and returned in the afternoon with a brace of pheasants or a collection of rabbits, which found their way into the kitchens so that the least of the squires could take credit for them. 

Janet knew. Every morning and every afternoon, she watched from her tower window. 

In fact Janet's ladies in particular seemed to take to Tam Lin more than to Janet herself. More than once, she had come across one of them—Elinor or Finella or goose-witted Isobel--gesticulating wildly and chattering away while Tam Lin watched her with the tolerant smile Janet had thought was reserved for Janet alone. And what right had Elinor or Finella or goose-witted Isobel to Tam Lin’s smile, the play of sunlight against Tam Lin’s golden hair, the curve of Tam Lin’s new, rounder cheeks? Had they sought him out in Carterhaugh, or held him close despite fae torments, or plucked a rose in sheer stubborn defiance of his warnings? 

For that matter, she couldn’t fathom why they didn’t like her more. Wasn’t she their liege lady, who clothed, fed, and protected them? 

“I listen to them,” said Tam Lin, shrugging his (her, her, better to call her _her_ even in the privacy of Janet’s own mind) shoulders when confronted “I like hearing what they have to say. After the whispers of the Queen and her Court, I find it refreshing.” 

Janet made a face where she stood at the opposite side of the solar, pretending to mend a gown but really taking the waistline out. It would last, by the most optimistic reckoning, three months more before it would need to be replaced and her own body would betray her secret. Enough time for her father to return to his own hall to bide the bitterest of the winter months. “Petty nonsense, all of it. Och, Murron helped herself to Finella’s hair ribbons. Dear Lord, Isobel won’t lend Elinor her pearl earrings. Saints preserve us all from such silliness.” 

”Not petty as I knew it,” said Tam Lin. “Petty as I knew it meant one lady tearing out the eyes of another because they’d looked too long at the first lady’s lover. Petty as I knew it meant one gentleman enchanting a family’s whole herd of cows into madness because they’d taken the wrong turn in the forest one evening and disturbed him. Petty as I knew it meant hardly daring to breathe during a revel for fear the Queen would take offense.” 

She had never mentioned the Queen since Halloween night. Janet set down her needlework and gingerly approached before equally hesitantly wrapping her arms around Tam Lin. That was another thing that had not happened between the two of them since Halloween night: something so simple as touch, when the two of them had brought a new life into this world together. 

It was somehow the most terrifying thing Janet had ever done, even more so than forcing herself to look the Queen of Fae in the eye when making her request. One instant Janet half-wished Tam Lin had been an adder again, for it might be easier to take her to her breast, and the next, she wondered if Tam Lin hadn't turned into fire once more, from the way her fingers tingled where skin met skin. 

Tam Lin glared at her but didn’t pull away. “Petty as I know it, Lady,” she said hoarsely, “meant being sentenced to Carterhaugh for asking too many questions.” 

And there it was, what Janet had half-expected, half-feared. But Tam Lin, after having been quiet for so long, couldn’t be stopped. 

”Your ladies love each other, love you. They love you for making sure they have enough coin for Finella to buy herself a new ribbon at market if she so pleases. They love you for making sure that Isobel can flaunt her pearl earrings without worrying they will be stolen. They love you for making sure that the squires who ogle too long won’t let their hands take liberties where their eyes do. 

“I am honored to be in their company,” Tam Lin said, lifting up Janet’s chin to look her squarely in the eye. “I am honored to serve you.”

"Yes," was all she could think of to say, and it was too little and too much to admit, all at the same time, "yes." 

* * *

And here was the truth of it, shameful as it was: Janet had never cared for any man as she did for the Tam Lin she knew her now. Had never cared for any man at all, in fact, not in that way they all seemed to desire of her. Not the fine laird’s sons her father had introduced her to when she first came of age, not the brawny knights who set Elinor and Finella and goosewitted Isobel giggling, certainly not old Malcolm in his grey armor, whose mouth was always twisted with envy or lust whensoever he cast eyes on her. 

Not even Tam Lin when she’d first met him, though that was a secret she’d share with no living soul. As good as he was to look at it, it hadn’t been until she’d realized that his grip on her wrists was as gentle as he could make it, that the price he would exact from her for her theft was as forced on him as on her. Then it had only been a question of making the best of it for both of them, and there had been laughter from both of them in the end at the sheer awkwardness of it all. She had liked him for it, a great deal, but there was no denying that it was love for her unborn child alone that drove her to Carterhaugh and to the crossroads on Halloween. 

But now? If the Tam Lin she knew now, with the long golden hair, the queenly stature, the grey eyes that shone with wisdom and humor and humanity, were to be reclaimed again by the fae, or should she decide she’d finally had enough of Janet’s sour moods and sharp tongue and seek her fortunes elsewhere— 

Well. There’d be nowhere she could go that Janet wouldn’t come following after.

* * *

Disaster found them by the first snowfall. It was Malcolm to blame, and little surprise that. Malcolm had been the first to guess her secret, after he found her retching in the herb gardens one too many times, and now, it seemed, he saw fit to fulfill the threat he’d dangled over her head for so many weeks: to tell her father and bring him charging home. 

And home her father charged indeed, with a bishop in tow, ready to say the words that would bind her into a convent for life. And in some ways that might not be so dreadful a fate; Janet knew now that hell existed, and from what little Tam Lin had intimated that to stand in heaven’s grace was by far the better fate. But there was no freedom in the convent, no double roses to pick without care. No Tam Lin, either. 

So it was without shame that Janet stood in the chapel, before her father, before the bishop, before Tam Lin’s cool assessing gaze and lied that she was not with child, that she’d never known a man’s touch before. How fortunate that her stomach bulged only enough to be explained away by a few too many helpings of venison at dinner. To a woman, her ladies stood behind her and perjured themselves that they'd never seen any odd behavior from her, that her monthly blood had never ceased, that she was as untouched and pure as the holy virgin. Goose-witted Isobel in particular produced a story about how Janet had handled an blessed alicorn only weeks earlier with every sign of sincerity. 

How unfortunate that neither the bishop nor her father seemed convinced. 

It was Tam Lin who intervened. “If my lady’s word before God won’t assure you,” she said in her low, sweet voice, “then perhaps the old ways will. Have Lady Janet prove her innocence by ordeal, and leave her be.” It was the red-hot irons they chose, and even through the tears that smarted up, Janet’s eyes found Tam Lin’s, laughing. Reflexively she held the iron close before even the bishop exclaimed, and then she could let it drop into a pail of water, and then her father could come forward and bandage her wound roughly with a strip of cloth. 

“If the Lord proclaims your innocence, may your wound be healed when we examine it three days hence, Lady,” the bishop intoned, and they all retreated. Her father turned on the threshold and barked, “You, girl!” at Tam Lin; “You’ll stay bedfellow to your lady to make sure she doesn’t find herself any more mischief.” 

And what could Tam Lin do but obey? 

Later, in bed, there was time for Janet to weep and examine the ugly, weeping welt across her palm. Tam Lin only examined it quickly. “It’ll heal,” she said, so matter-of-factly Janet could do nothing more than believe her. She thought she would always believe her, but before Janet could point this out, Tam Lin took it upon herself to stop Janet's tears with kisses and far more pleasant caresses, and talking soon became the last of Janet's concerns. 

It was around the witching hour, she thought, that she woke to Tam Lin whispering, “She meant it as a gift, I think.” 

Janet made an indistinct noise of bemusement. Tam Lin, obligingly enough, went on: “She rewards champions, the Queen. Not always in the ways they pleased, but—“ 

She looked away and once more at Janet. “ _This_ is how I was meant to be,” she says, “no matter how it robs you of a father for your bairn. Forgive me, lass.” 

Janet gazed on the fine figure Tam Lin made beside her, who stirred her heart as the elven knight had never before, and whispered: "Our child you might have robbed, but me you have rewarded, far beyond all I deserve." 

And Tam Lin smiled. 

* * *

True to Tam Lin's words, the wound healed. The fae knew herbs, after all, and Tam Lin as well as any of the rest of them. Or perhaps it was the final confession Janet swore: that truthfully, she'd never gone to bed with any but her Lady Linn. The bishop goggled. Her father swore. Malcolm slunk off back into the shadows. 

Janet used her indignation for all it was worth. To think that a good, god fearing girl such as herself should be so slandered! Perhaps it would be all the better if Janet left for Carterhaugh, with naught but her ladies in attendance. Perhaps then her reputation would be safe from her father's suspicion. Her father blustered apologies, but allowed that it was a fair notion nonetheless. And so it was that Janet made for Carterhaugh, Tam Lin riding at her side. 

It was only too bad, Janet allowed, that Elinor and Finella and goosewittted Isobel amongst all the rest, would have to join them. But, Tam Lin pointed out, her four-and-twenty maidens would keep her secrets for love of her, and they had had enough, both of them, of solitude. 

The child was born in high summer. Officially the young Margaret was the Lady Janet's ward and heir, offspring of one of the many ladies that clustered around her--and so close-mouthed they were, so conscientious of each other's honor, that no one could ever know which of them had disgraced herself, but only that the Lady Janet protected them all. Just as well that the Lady Janet had sworn never to wed; if nothing else, that golden-haired shadow of hers had a knack for dissuading potential suitors. 

There remains only this to tell: that on the next All Hallow's Eve, Janet stole out from the fine house at Carterhaugh, leaving Tam Lin and her sleeping daughter behind to meet the Queen of the Fae at the crossroads. This year the Queen rode alone, or perhaps she hid her favored knight from sight, for fear that Janet might pluck another from her grasp. Little fear of that; Janet was well content with the woman who rested in her bed. 

They studied each other in silence, the Queen as lovely as ever, Janet's face only slightly creased by childbed and motherhood and laughter. Once Janet might felt herself the lesser, but not tonight, not in the shadow of what had happened one year hence. Finally Janet conceded defeat: "Why?" she asked, and the corners of the Queen's red mouth quirked upwards. 

"Didn't my Tam Lin try and tell you?" replied the Queen through peals of laughter as sweet as bellsong and as sharp as a knife's edge. "I reward champions, my dear," she said merrily, "even those who rise up in challenge against me. _Especially_ those who rise up in challenge against me."

Janet paused a moment to consider this. "Thank you," she replied at last, and bowed. This much, she thought, she could allow the Queen. 

She was alone when she raised her head: only herself and the frozen woods and the wind wailing a lament for the teind paid that night. Janet shrugged her mantle closer, and stepped back onto the path that would take her home.

**Author's Note:**

> For Sumi, whose prompts led me to see why I've always loved this ballad - and why parts of it have always bothered me. One of her prompts was to write a queer retelling, which in its first draft naturally led me to excise the pregnancy aspect--but the further I got with that version, the more I came to see that in my interpretation of the ballad, Janet is arguably motivated mostly by securing the legitimacy of her child rather than True Love (TM). Actually, if you go with the theory that Tam Lin in turn is just using her to escape being sacrificed, trying to hammer that mercenary situation into a romance is a challenge. So (my thought process continued) why not explore that further, by forcing Janet to choose Tam Lin for herself rather than as a socially acceptable husband and father?  
> That said, if you notice any sort of mishandling of Tam Lin's transformation, or notice something that I could have handled better, please do let me know, and please attribute any missteps to ignorance rather than malice. 
> 
>  
> 
> The Queen's quote at the very beginning is of course directly taken from the ballad, as is the title. Malcolm is the "auld grey knight" who randomly pops up to comment on Janet's pregnancy, and people familiar with the ballad will of course know that Janet's father, and implicitly most people around her, canonically already knows about her pregnancy (and that her father is "meek and mild" while discussing it with her; whoops!) - her managing to keep it a secret is a liberty I take to make it to my ending.


End file.
